Raven's Blood
by TheLastStroke
Summary: I loved how his white skin was colored with a pink blush. It was, I decided, just like the spiraling pink stain the raven’s blood had left in the snow outside.
1. The Raven

Dead.  
  
That was what I had assumed it was. The raven faltered, stumbling across the gray sky unsteadily before it came crashing down. It hit the ground with a sickening thud, and the entire Hogwarts population ran from the spot. There was blood, of course, spilling out of the animal's wing and pooling in a bright puddle around it, and I, like the rest of the students, thought that the bird was dead.  
  
Wait. That isn't true. One person didn't seem to think it was dead. He ran from his spot at the edge of the lake, hunched over the bird. Blond hair hung in wisps across his pale face, and he appeared to be prodding the raven's wing. I was a few steps away, sitting alone, and watching. I heard the heart- wrenching sound that escaped the half-dead bird's beak. Its wing was definitely broken.  
  
But it wasn't dead.  
  
It continued to struggle, moving against the boy's hands and crying out in agony. It soon realized that resistance was futile, and sagged against the boy's hands, defeated.  
  
The students resumed all usual activity as Draco Malfoy continued to tend to the weak raven. And as I watched him, an empty smile formed on my pale lips.  
  
Draco stood up, cradling the weak thing gently in his arms. He walked it slowly up the slope to the hospital wing. No one paid much attention to the boy holding the bird.  
  
But I did. I always paid attention, and it was usually unnoticed and unwanted.  
  
However now, I strained my ears to hear Draco softly scolding the pathetic, wounded creature.  
  
"How silly. To try and fly without wings." He chuckled softly smiling at the raven.  
  
And I, sitting alone in the middle of the yard, began to laugh. Not a few, nervous giggles, but a hollow, empty laugh that reverberated around my ribs and caused the students around me to look up, alarmed. And I continued to laugh.  
  
Because it was ironic, really.  
  
The raven had tried to fly without wings. I live without love.  
  
Both things seem impossible, but they aren't. They are simply so hard that they are only done when the creature is forced into that situation. No bird will cut off its own wings, and no person will try to be alone. But if you lose those things, what do you do? If you're a bird, you have to keep flying, waiting for someone to soften that fatal, inevitable fall. And if you are me, you keep living, waiting for someone to save you from the all- consuming emptiness. Can one person help both?  
  
I wish he could. I wish that Draco Malfoy had the strength to save the raven and the heart to return my unrequited love. But wishes are only as good as the ones that come true, and mine are useless.  
  
Because while Draco can easily save the raven, he can't pretend to love me.  
  


* * *

  
I remember everything about him. I had known Draco for as long as I could remember. Our fathers worked at the ministry, and we went to the fancy parties at least once a month. Every child had a counterpart, someone of his or her own age and sex that they got to know very well. The closest person in age to me was Draco, since my brother Ron would always invite his friend Harry. And I think, that sometime, long ago, Draco and I were friends. But that is probably just wishful thinking. Draco grew up much faster than me, and soon looked down at me as an annoying little child. I started wondering why each party made me want to go home and cry, until it hit me. I was in love with Draco Malfoy. The empty feeling that made me feel as though I would never be happy again was the realization that I hadn't known all of this time how much he meant to me.  
  
From then on, I spent hours getting ready for each ministry party. I would do my hair, put on make- up, anything to make myself look old enough for him. I also wore ridiculously high heels. I suppose I thought that if I were as tall as him, he might regard me as an equal. I had already given up all hope of him loving me, but now all I wanted was to talk to him. To have him consider me his friend. But he never did.  
  
I still remember the day I tried to tell him. I was wearing green dress robes, and it was Christmas. I wondered around aimlessly for most of the night, nervously imagining what he would say. I think even then I knew, deep down, that he wouldn't care.  
  
And the rest of my story is that of the raven's. I too, took a deep plunge and landed next to Draco. I sat near him, trying to speak, stumbling over my words as the raven had stumbled across the sky. As I was about to tell him the truth, how I loved him, his mother walked in, telling him to come down, because they were leaving. He let out a sigh of relief and started to gather his things. He disregarded me with barely a sigh. And then I bled, bled as the raven had. I was hurt, but there was still hope, that maybe, just maybe, as I stood up and walked to the door, that he would tell me to wait. That he would hold me back, and that he would save me. As he had saved the raven.  
  
My hand was on the doorknob. I closed my eyes, slowly praying. I was sending him the same message over and over.  
  
~ Oh say, say, say... ~  
  
I wanted him to say it. I need to hear it, or I would collapse. I would lose myself in all of my doom and misery. I continued to mentally plead with him.  
  
~ Oh say, say, say... ~  
  
I turned the doorknob. Not a word. I knew what I wanted him to say. I wanted him to tell me to wait, to stay with him, and then he would say:  
  
~ Wait, they don't love you like I love you. ~  
  
That was exactly what I wanted him to say. But did he? Of course not. So I turned to him.  
  
"Draco," I said softly. "I love you."  
  
He stared at me, an empty, hurt look in his eyes. And then he laughed hollowly.  
  
"No, you don't." he said calmly. "I am the most unlovable person in the world."  
  
That was when there was absolutely no hope in the world for me. He thought it was all some big joke, he didn't believe me. And that was when I died.  
  
I turned and ran. I couldn't stay there anymore. I was flying down the stairs, choking and gasping on unshed tears. On my way out, Narcissa Malfoy gently pulled on my sleeve to stop me.  
  
"Is anything wrong, dear?" she asked me softly. I turned and gave her my famous, hollow smile. The smile I gave everyone, that made them think I was fine, that I, Virginia Weasley, was the happy carefree girl that they knew. So when she asked me how I was feeling, I felt that for once I should be honest with her.  
  
"Of course something's wrong." I said, still smiling simply before running out the door. I never said that I would give her the whole truth.  
  
And just like with the raven, Draco didn't believe I was dead. He followed me, grabbing my arm much more tightly than his mother had. I struggled against him, crying out in torturous agony, and, just as the raven, I recognized defeat and went limp in his arms. He stared down at me. I was completely lifeless.  
  
"My mother wanted to know if you were okay." He asked awkwardly. I laughed again and again, louder and louder. So he couldn't even come see me on his own terms. He had to be sent by his mother. He sent me a nervous glance, not realizing I had practically fallen into hysterics in his arms. I decided I might as well set his mind at ease.  
  
"I'm perfect." I said, regaining my composer and removing myself from his arms.  
  
He sighed again, this time with relief. I smiled my empty smile again, and then made up an excuse for leaving. He said nothing about my confession, and I knew he was glad he wouldn't have to convince me that I didn't love him. Because Draco Malfoy can't save everyone. The ravens, maybe. But me? I'm a lost cause. The one person I loved would never love me. The proof was right there in front of me.  
  


* * *

  
I walked up to the hospital wing to look in on the raven. Draco left, as soon as I walked in. Before he could leave, I looked at him carefully. I loved how his white skin was colored with a pink blush. It was, I decided, just like the spiraling pink stain the raven's blood had left in the snow outside. I wondered how long he would avoid me.  
  
I looked down at the bird. It had lived. I had died. I wanted to hate him for it. But was that really fair? After all, the bird didn't fall to the ground knowing it would be saved, just as I didn't fall in love knowing my love would be returned.  
  
I smiled, a true smile. My first in months.  
  
Then I wrote a note to Draco, explaining how I had been joking on Christmas, and he shouldn't worry. He would laugh when he saw it, half out of relief, and half because he had never really cared enough to worry about me. It wasn't his job to.  
  
I hadn't been joking. I loved him with a passion that overcame all logic. But I loved him so much I wouldn't want him to keep avoiding me. That was what the letter was for. To get things back to normal. Even if normal meant he ignored me.  
  
I then went out to the empty courtyard and cried.  
  
Because love is so unconditional. You don't fall in love because the person loves you. You fall in love because you love everything about them, the way they look when they are caught up in a movie and are laughing animatedly, breaking the ice mask they usually wear and forgetting the rest of the world. The way they made fun of others, just to see them rise. The way they stormed about after receiving letters from their parents, muttering that they would never join the dark side.  
  
I had lived in love without my love being returned. It was as pathetic as the bird that flies without wings, the fish that swims without gills. But it was there.  
  
And though I understood all about him not loving me and love being unconditional, I still cried. Just like the raven moaned when it hit the pavement. Even if you understand what's going on, it hurts. And probably always will.  
  
I will keep hurting for you, Draco.  
  
Love, Virginia 'Ginny' Weasley  
  


* * *

  
I wrote the above letter in January of my fourth year. I had pulled it out on two occasions. One was when I showed it to Harry in my fifth year, to prove to him that my little crush on him was over. He looked at me sadly, and I could read his thoughts exactly.  
  
I'm sorry you love him. He obviously loves no one.  
  
And I smiled my empty smile, assuring him that I would be fine.  
  
The second time I pulled this letter out was January of my seventh year. That was yesterday. Yesterday I should have gone marching up to Draco's apartment and given it to him, and told him that I needed him, and that not being able to watch him in school destroyed me. Yesterday I should have done that, and he would have kissed me and told me he loved me.  
  
But that didn't happen. I backed down, delaying the meeting until today.  
  
Today I am at Draco's funeral.  
  
He committed suicide, in case you are wondering. Why? Well, it's never really one reason. It was a myriad of reasons. He wouldn't join his father at Voldemort's side. He couldn't find a decent job as being a Malfoy during this suspicious time wouldn't permit it. And then the main reason. The reason he finally broke down. You'll love this.  
  
Because he wasn't loved.  
  
But I had known that all along, hadn't I? I said I loved him, yet I completely overlooked it.  
  
"I am the most unlovable person in the world."  
  
Why hadn't I realized? Because I was too caught up in my own misery that he didn't love me. But he had, and he hadn't believed I loved him. He and I had no love for ourselves, and we therefore could not love each other. Our misery and self- pity blinded us to look past the one thing that mattered, the one thing that would help us.  
  
Again, it is all very ironic.  
  
I drop the letter on top of his grave, and then I leave the one funeral I never wanted to attend.  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own Draco Malfoy, Ginny Weasley, Harry Potter, or Hogwarts. Or the few lines of the song Maps by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs.  
  
A/N: This isn't the end. And by the way, I don't usually write sad endings. I try to, but I always cave. This is one of those instances. (hint,hint!) I urge you to continue till the end of the story before yelling at me. After that, feel free. 


	2. Imaginations

As I left Draco's funeral, the wind began to howl, screaming my pain and moaning my longing. It tugged at the black lace of my dress, urging me to go back in time and make things better.  
  
But I couldn't.  
  
And now, I couldn't even face my family. I was through with everything. Smiling my empty smile, laughing my hollow laugh. I wanted desperately for someone to see through my fake exterior and the one person who had was Malfoy.  
  
How do I know this? How do I know why he killed himself, why he loved me?  
  
Because they gave me his last letter to the world.  
  
~Dear everyone who cares, (that being no one or I wouldn't be doing this,)  
  
I'm tired. I just can't do it anymore.  
  
First off, let me say that I am not my father. I will NOT join Voldemort, I will NOT kill innocents. I have never really cared about that mudblood crap anyway. Then, why, you may ask, was I constantly mean to Potter, Weasley, and Granger? Isn't it obvious?  
  
I was jealous.  
  
I was in love with, of all people, Virginia Weasley. It hurt to see Weasley and Granger fall in love, and Potter find the girl of his dreams. I think that Ginny loved Potter, just as I loved her. That was too unfair.  
  
She told me once. She said she loved me, and oh, how I wanted to believe her. But I couldn't. I knew it wasn't true. She had probably been sent by her brother, and fled with embarrassment when I found out the truth. She later sent me a letter confirming my suspicions.  
  
So; why didn't I kill myself then? Why wait until now, when I've graduated Hogwarts and she has forgotten me?  
  
Because I heard news of a wedding. A Mr. Ronald Weasley marrying Miss Hermionie Granger. And that's when it hit me.  
  
One day I will see Ginny married. She will be happy, she will be complete. And though I will not be invited, I will stand outside and cry.  
  
Crying at a wedding? How disgraceful to the name of Malfoy. Might as well die before I have to succumb to that. ( By the way, the last lines are to be spoken with sarcasm oozing off of every word.)  
  
Draco ~  
  
I threw the letter to the ground, the rain coming down from all sides. The wind threw the letter back at me, mocking me. And then I ran.  
  
And now I am here. In the middle of the woods, sobbing. A figure from the shadows came out to laugh.  
  
"I knew you'd miss me." Draco said with a satisfied smirk. I stared him down coolly, completely unsurprised by his presence.  
  
"Go away, imagination. You can't fool me anymore. He's dead. I think that letter was my imagination, too. He didn't love me." I said, tears still streaming down my face. "Couldn't he see? Why didn't he realize that I was just as alone as he was, that I needed him?"  
  
The figment of my imagination was smiling, more proof that it wasn't real. Draco never smiled, at least not at me.  
  
"Get away!" I screamed, flinging myself to the ground. "Leave me in peace. I'll never again even be able to imagine him in peace, imagine him loving me. Because he didn't! It's all a lie!"  
  
And that was when my hallucination started to behave very strangely. My imagined Draco put his arms around me, stroked my hair, and shushed me until I stopped crying. Which was very strange. Because imaginations do not do any of those things.  
  
I pulled away and looked him in the eyes. The silvery eyes that looked past me, never at me.  
  
"Who are you?" I asked.  
  
"Do you love me?" he asked at the same time.  
  
"My question first." I said stubbornly. He stared me down.  
  
"I am Draco Malfoy."  
  
"Draco Malfoy is dead." I said calmly.  
  
"Draco Malfoy was pronounced dead because of a letter. They never found the body." He said just as coolly. I stared at him as the realization hit me. And then I smiled, the real kind of smile.  
  
"Yes." I said. He shot me a quizzical glance.  
  
"Yes to what?"  
  
"Yes to your first question." I smiled. He returned the gesture, staring at me, not past me. And then Draco Malfoy, the Draco who loved me, who had faked his death and was now standing next to me, did a crazy thing.  
  
He kissed me.  
  
In the middle of the forest, me in my stained black silk and tear- stained face, and him in his black suit. Me, with my fiery hair in disarray, and him, not a strand of hair out of place.  
  
He had faked his death to be with me. He had planned to run away, when he saw me leave that letter on his grave. That letter had made him follow me.  
  
They would never accept us, he told me. Our parents, society. They didn't believe in us. So what did we do? We ignored them. They had never been there for us, never seen us for who we really were.  
  
And then we were married, in that same hidden forest, the ravens our only company.  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything related to it. 


	3. Epilogue

I have told you that the ravens were our only company at the wedding done in secrecy. Some of you may ask why I am happy about that. After all, ravens are a sign of death.  
  
But there was death that day. Death of two people's outer shells. The death of everyone's impression that Virginia Weasley and Draco Malfoy fit into society's image of them. Ginny as the happy, popular girl that got perfect grades and Draco as the evil boy that was out to make people miserable. Those pretend people had died.  
  
And as I kissed my husband on our wedding day, the ravens cried out in joy, apparently pleased with those deaths.  
  
By: TheLastStroke 


End file.
